


The Human Element

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: To DI Geordie Keating murder meant primarily finding the perpetrator.  But for Rev Leonard Finch what mattered was caring for those who had been affected, and helping to bind up the broken-hearted.  What he didn't realise was in drawing alongside those who were suffering he would become closely involved with the trail left by the murderer.





	The Human Element

**Author's Note:**

> Do see the lovely artwork by Dreamkist on Dreamwidth: [The Human Element](https://dreamkist.dreamwidth.org/32607.html)
> 
> Beta by the wonderful Okapi

Sidney Chambers looked at Leonard Finch and sighed. 

Leonard looked back.  “I’m sure there has to be a solution,” he said.  He didn’t look particularly confident of this fact.

“We could cancel the church fete,” Sidney said.

“Ye-e-e-s, although that would raise a number of other problems.  Not least of which would be Mrs C’s wrath at learning her jam tarts weren’t going to be up for ‘most popular jam tart’ again this year.”

“I thought the produce competitions were held at the village fair.”

“They are.  This is an unofficial competition to see whose jam tarts are consumed first at the tea table.”

“Ah.  I remember last year Mrs C refused to talk to me after I ate a jam tart.  Presumably it wasn’t one of hers.”

“Exactly.  So what do you plan to do?”  Leonard was keen not to allow Sidney to avoid the current problem.

“Find some way to eliminate the two main protagonists?”

“Oh yes.  I’m sure Geordie will help you dispose of the bodies.”

“I didn’t mean it quite like that.  Although now you come to mention it …”  Sidney paused, before adding, “I suppose I could just …”

“No,” Leonard interrupted.  “There is nothing in church ordinances which states it is the curate’s responsibility to organise the arrangement of the stalls at the church fete.  And really, it’s more of a pastoral matter, which requires the tact and diplomacy of the senior clergy member.”

They heard the telephone ring and Mrs Chapman answering it.  Shortly afterwards she knocked on the study door and came in without waiting for an answer.  She looked very pale.

“Mrs Gibson’s on the phone.  Her Bert’s been found dead,” she said.

Sidney leapt up, leaving Leonard to usher Mrs C into a seat.  “I’ll go and make a nice cup of tea,” Leonard said.

On the way to the kitchen, Leonard passed Sidney, who was still on the phone.  He heard Sidney say, “I’ll be straight over.  Tell them not to touch anything before the police arrive.  Goodbye.”

Sidney followed Leonard into the kitchen.  “Bert Gibson was found dead with the back of his head bashed in.  I’ll go over, you’ll need to stay here.  Make sure you’re the one to answer the phone, don’t let Mrs C do it.  Take a note of everyone who calls, don’t venture any information.”

“A case of ‘Yes, we have heard the news and are praying for Bert and the family.’”

“Precisely.”

“Do you want me to arrange prayers in the church?  I could invite callers to come, although that might just give them an opportunity for gossip.”

“They’ll gossip anyway.  But that’s a good idea.  I’ll leave you to organise it at whatever time you choose.”

The kettle whistled, and Leonard turned to make the tea.

“I’ll see you later,” Sidney said.  “Goodbye, Mrs C.”

The housekeeper had come into the kitchen.  She still looked pale, but was slightly more composed than when she had brought the message.  “You’ll need to put some more biscuits in the tin,” she said.

Leonard nodded. He replenished the tin and then poured the tea.  They both sat at the kitchen table, caught up in their own thoughts.

It wasn’t long before the telephone rang again.  Leonard spent the rest of the morning fielding calls and providing non-committal answers. Just before one o’clock the phone rang again.  Leonard sighed; Mrs Chapman was about to serve dinner, and he had hoped to be able to eat his meal in peace.  Nevertheless, he answered the phone.

His last words were: “No that should be fine.  I’m sure it will stretch.  I’ll let her know.”

He went back into the kitchen and spoke to Mrs Chapman, who had been waiting for him.  “That was Sidney.  He’s bringing Geordie back to the vicarage.  Do you think there’ll be enough for him to have some dinner too?”

Mrs Chapman tutted and muttered something about ‘I suppose there is, just about.’  Leonard wasn’t worried.  Mrs Chapman always cooked enough dinner to leave something for supper, and if Geordie ate what would have been left over, there was always bread and cheese.

Sidney and Geordie arrived shortly after and the four of them ate their dinner in relative silence.  Leaving Mrs Chapman to clear the table afterwards, the three men moved into Sidney’s study.

“Were there any interesting phone calls?” Sidney asked.

“No,” Leonard replied.  “A couple of people didn’t phone who I might have expected, but no-one said anything of interest.  Here’s the complete list of callers, with notes of anything additional they said.  Again, there’s nothing much.”

Sidney looked at the list, which Leonard passed over and showed Geordie.  “Yes, I’m surprised you haven’t heard from Mrs Henson, but she may have felt awkward phoning.  Who else had you expected?”

“Miss White.  I was sure she would be asking if she could help in any way.”

“I suppose she might have thought we’d have enough to do and left us to get on with it.”

Geordie snorted.  “She’d be a rare sort if she’d thought that way.”

“Yes, I’m inclined to agree,” Sidney replied.  “Miss White isn’t known for that sort of insight.  I presume most of the conversations went much the same way?”

“Oh yes.  Either ‘have you heard?’ or ‘isn’t dreadful, vicar?’ followed by ‘oh, you’re not the vicar’ in half the cases.  Then some sort of question to see if there was any further information, to which I replied, ‘we shall be holding prayers in the church at 4 o’clock this afternoon’, which I suspect wasn’t quite the information that was hoped for.  And finally a request to speak to Mrs C, to which I firmly replied she was unavailable.”

“But Mrs C wouldn’t have any further information,” Geordie objected.

“No,” agreed Sidney, “but that wouldn’t stop the speculation.”

“It would be useful to know who comes to the church this afternoon,” Geordie said.  “And who doesn’t come.  Do you need to be involved, Sidney, or could you just observe?”

“You’ll be happy leading the prayers, Leonard?” Sidney asked.

“Yes, but they may be a bit long if I do them.”

“To be honest, it won’t matter,” Sidney replied.  “As you said this morning, most of those there will only have gone to gossip, so could certainly benefit from some earnest prayers.  And anyone who is genuinely affected won’t be able to take in half what’s said anyway.  If I slip in at the back shortly after you begin I can keep an eye on those who’ve come.”  Sidney noticed Leonard’s slightly disapproving expression, and added, “What’s the matter?”

“When all’s said and done, there is a dead man and a grieving widow, both of whom do deserve our prayers.”

“You’re quite right, Leonard.  And I promise you I will be praying for them.”

Geordie stood up.  “I need to get back to the station and see if there’s anything come in as yet.”

The phone rang again, and Leonard went to answer it.  He listened to the caller and said, “I’ll call him for you.”

Sidney went to take the receiver, but Leonard said, “Geordie, it’s Constable Wright, for you.”

Geordie listened to his constable, swore, and said, “We’ll be right over.  Try to not arrest anyone unless you have to.”  He replaced the receiver in the cradle and turned to the other two.  “Sidney, you’d better come with me.  Leonard, just so you know, William Henson’s turned up with Sarah, and he and Gary Dixon have almost come to blows.”

“Oh dear,” Leonard replied.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Geordie said.

Leonard watched Sidney and Geordie leave, before going into the study.  He had a feeling he was going to need to be very careful how he worded some of his prayers.  There had been little love lost between the Gibsons and the Hensons for several years, and when, six weeks’ earlier, Sarah Gibson and William Henson had got married in the registry office in a nearby town without telling either family, the fallout had been impressive.  In the circumstances, Leonard wasn’t surprised at the reaction Sarah and William’s return had provoked from Gary Dixon.  Dixon had married the Gibsons’ elder daughter Yvonne, and tended to behave as if he was head of the family.  Which, Leonard rather ruefully thought, is what he was now.

***

At quarter to four, Leonard went over to the church to find a number of people already there.  He encouraged them to take their seats in the pews, in the hope this would stop some of the discussion.

 When this had little effect he said, “At times like this I find it helpful to look through the prayer book to calm my mind before seeking the Lord.” 

At the same time, he placed a prayer book in front of each person with a small thump.  It didn’t totally silence the congregation, but at least they confined themselves to whispering to their neighbour.

He was about to start when Sarah Henson came into the church.  The whole of the congregation turned to look at her, many tutting when they saw her.  Leonard felt sorry for her; she’d clearly been crying.  It was entirely possible she hadn’t seen her father since the wedding, and it seemed quite likely she was regretting bitterly the thought she could never make it up with him.

Leonard smiled at Sarah and indicated with his arm the far end of the empty front pew, where she could sit at a distance from the prying looks.

Then Leonard began, “We have gathered here to remember Bert Gibson, to pray for him and his family at this time.  Let us therefore come before God, not in a spirit of judgement, but in a spirit of humble supplication for those whose needs are great.”  He felt rather judgemental himself, as he placed a strong emphasis on ‘humble’, but decided it was worth making a point.

He spotted Sidney quietly slip in and take a seat in a pew at the back.  Leonard began reading out the prayers he had prepared.  He deliberately left a space between each prayer for, as he told the congregation, personal reflection and supplication.  From the expression on one or two of their faces he gathered this was not an entirely welcome opportunity, but he persisted, drawing the prayers to a close with the saying of the Grace.

As the congregation hurried out into the sunshine, no doubt to discuss Sarah’s presence, Leonard went over to the lady in question.  “I suggest you wait for a few minutes before you go out,” he said.

Sarah sniffed.  “Would you mind saying a prayer just for me?” she asked.  “I probably shouldn’t ask, but if you could.”

“Of course.”  Leonard bowed his head and softly asked for Sarah to know some peace in her turmoil.

Afterwards, Sarah gave him a weak smile, thanked him warmly, and made a show of pushing her shoulders back and down.  “Right.  Now to face the hordes,” she said.

“I’ll come with you,” Leonard replied.  “They’ll say less if they see me.  Where are you going to?”

“William said he’ll pick me up at the bus stop.  We’re staying with a cousin in Cambridge.  Neither of us wanted to stay here tonight.”

“That’s understandable.”

Sarah looked as if she wanted to say something else, but then stopped.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Leonard asked.

“Not at the moment.  But would it be possible for me to see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.  Would you like to come to the vicarage?”  He saw the doubt in her face.  “Or we could meet somewhere in Cambridge if that would be easier for you.”

“That would be better.  Could I phone you in the morning?”

“Yes, please do.”  They had reached the church door.  “It would probably be best if I walk you to the bus stop.”

Sarah looked a little doubtful, but Leonard smiled reassuringly at her.  As they approached the bus stop, William drew up and Sarah got into the car.  Leonard waved to her and was pleased to see both Sarah and William wave back.

The following morning Leonard entered the small café where Sarah Henson had suggested they meet.  The bell jangled as he opened the door, and he was conscious of a number of middle-aged ladies noticing his entrance.  Fortunately, he quickly spotted Sarah sitting in one of the corners, and he hurried over to join her.

A waitress came over to take his order.  “Coffee please,” he said, “and a toasted tea cake.”  Turning towards Sarah he asked, “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.  I’ve already ordered,” she replied.

The waitress departed, and Leonard continued, “How can I help you, Sarah?”

“I don’t know where to begin,” she said.  “You must think we’re awful for not getting married in church.”

“It’s up to everyone to make their own decision as to where they get married.  Obviously, I would suggest a church marriage, but I know not everyone wants it.  And I do understand why the two of you might have preferred to get married without your families being involved; even though I’m not sure it solves anything long term.”

“The thing is,” Sarah paused, as if gathering up all her courage, before continuing, “I’m pregnant.  We’d been going to wait and try to at least get both families to behave civilly at the wedding, but then it was too late, and we knew it would be impossible.  I’m sorry.  I’ve probably horrified you.”

Leonard gave Sarah a small smile.  “In an ideal world, people would get married before they had children, but this is a fallen world, and these things happen.  You are married now, and whatever difficulties you may have with your family, I am sure your child will be born to loving parents.”

Leonard paused, while the waitress brought his coffee and Sarah’s tea.  Then he continued, “Who else knows you’re expecting?”

“None of our family knows.  The landlord of the flat we’re renting knows, because we wanted to be sure there wouldn’t be a problem having a baby there, but he doesn’t know anyone in Grantchester.  I was hoping to tell my mother, but I’ve not had a chance to be alone with her.  We stayed overnight with one of Will’s cousins, who we haven’t told either.  Will drove back to work first thing this morning.  He’s coming back to pick me up after work, and I’m going to try to see my mother today.  If not, we’ve agreed to write to both our mothers tonight.”

“Please let me know if I can help in anyway.”  A thought suddenly struck Leonard.  “How did you hear about your father’s death?”

“Will’s mother phoned the company Will works for.  He came home and got me and drove me straight over here.”

“You didn’t hear from your own family?”

“No, but we’re not on the phone, so they’d have had to send a telegram.  I suppose one might have arrived after we left.”

“Is there anything in particular you’d like me to do for you?”

“No, thank you.  I don’t think there’s anything which can be done.  I just wanted to talk to someone who would understand the situation without me having to explain everything.  You won’t have to tell anyone, will you?”

“No, of course not.”

Sarah nodded.  “Good!”

“And do contact me whenever you need to.”

“Thank you so much for coming to meet me, Mr Finch.  I feel a little happier just having spoken to you.”

Leonard smiled at her.  He offered to pay for the bill when the waitress brought it over, but she insisted on paying her share, and then the two of them left the café going their separate ways once outside.

***

By the time Leonard made it back to the vicarage he found Mrs Chapman ready to serve dinner.  He noted it was steak and kidney pie, which he was rather fond of, wondered vaguely if it was wrong to be pleased in the circumstances, and then decided he’d enjoy it anyway.

As they had the previous day, having finished eating, the three men made their way to the study.  Leonard paused.  “Would you prefer me to leave you two together?”

Geordie shook his head.  “No, these matters concern your parishioners, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be present.  Sidney tells me you saw Sarah Henson this morning.  Did she tell you anything which might be relevant?”

Leonard thought for a moment.  “No, she’s clearly very upset.  She told me about the wedding, and the effect that had on the family, but that won’t be news to you.”

“No, people have been very keen to tell us all about that.  However, we quickly eliminated William Henson from our list of suspects.  Mrs Gibson said Gibson left home shortly after seven, and Henson was at work by eight o’clock.  It takes about forty minutes to drive from here to where Henson works, so he’d have had at most about ten minutes to hit Gibson over the head, move the body (oh, that fact isn’t commonly known yet, so keep it to yourselves), and change his clothes, since he couldn’t risk wearing his work suit.”

“If you’re sure he couldn’t have done it,” Sidney said, “Why are you apparently taking seriously all the suggestions he’s the most logical person?”

“Because I want whoever is responsible to think he – and from the angle of the blow it’s almost certainly a he – isn’t under suspicion.  Although there’s still the question of why Henson didn’t arrive here until after half past one.”

“I can answer that,” Leonard said.  “Sarah told me William Henson’s mother phoned his work, and he came straight home to get her.  I suppose he could have been lying.”

“That should be easy enough to check if we have to,” Geordie said.  “But if it’s the truth, why did Mrs Henson wait until,” he paused to do a mental calculation, “after midday to phone?  She must have known about Gibson’s death; the rest of the village did.”

“She might have assumed the Gibsons would send a telegram,” Sidney said.  “And she doesn’t have a telephone, so she’d have needed to use the box outside White’s Stores.  I imagine she’d prefer to wait until they’d closed for lunch before making the call.”

“That makes sense,” Geordie said.  “She might well have assumed the Gibsons would send a telegram, and then, when Sarah didn’t arrive by, what, half past twelve, decided she ought to phone.  Is there any chance you could check that, do you think, Sidney?”

“That won’t be a problem.  I can call in on her on the way to see Mrs Gibson.”

“Right, time I got back to work,” Geordie said, standing up.  He left the study, called out, “Thank you, Mrs C, for the excellent pie,” and departed.

Leonard also left the study, to be met by Mrs Chapman, who was holding Dickens’ lead.  “The dog needs a walk,” she said.  “He’d probably enjoy going along the meadow.”

“I’ll just get my hat,” Leonard said.

Mrs Chapman promptly handed him his hat, so he and Dickens obediently left the house and set off for the meadow.

Once in the meadow, Dickens spotted a figure in the distance and went bounding over to greet the person.

When Daniel Marlowe drew closer he said, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it.  I thought you might be too busy.”

Leonard laughed.  “I didn’t have much choice.  Mrs C insisted I take Dickens out – and told me which direction to take!  And you know I’d never be too busy for you.”

“I know.  But in the circumstances, I would have understood if you’d been with some of your parishioners.”

“Thank you.  I do appreciate your understanding.”

They smiled at each other, and Daniel nodded towards a row of trees a little way off.  They walked together towards them, keeping a respectable distance apart, until they were behind the trees and confident their only witness was Dickens, who was far more interested in the rabbit holes he was finding.

They kissed and hugged and enjoyed the sensation of being close to each other until Dickens, tired of his failure to track any rabbits, barked to announce it was time to go home.

Leonard sighed.  “I’d better get back.  I have Friday afternoon off, so I’ll come to you, if that’s okay.”

“I’ll look forward to it.  I’ve got a book I think you might like.  And don’t worry; it won’t raise any eyebrows if you leave it lying around in the vicarage.”

Leonard laughed, and the two of them set off in their separate directions, Dickens bounding ahead of Leonard, once more hoping to find rabbits.

Leonard spent the rest of the afternoon making preliminary notes for his Sunday sermon.  He then quickly ran through the plan for the evening’s confirmation class, and mentally groaned as he anticipated the discussions on the seventh commandment.

He looked up when he heard Sydney come in.  “How’s Mrs Gibson?” he asked.

“Upset,” Sydney replied.

“Not surprising, in the circumstances.”

“While I was there, Gary Dixon came marching in and told her she would need to leave the cottage by the end of the week, as he would be arranging with the landlord to move in.”

“What?”

“Apparently he wants to use the barns at the back to extend his workshop.”

“Can he do that?”

“The barns were owned by Bert Gibson; the cottage, and the land the barns are on are owned by the Endicott Estate.  The Estate manager is very unlikely to give Mrs Gibson notice to quit within the week.”

“In the past they’ve been happy to either transfer the tenancy to the widow, or negotiate a reasonable leaving date.”

“Exactly.  No doubt the manager will be happy to lease the land to whoever owns the barns, and Dixon says they’ve been left to him, but even so the will hasn’t been read yet.”

“No wonder Mrs Gibson was upset.”

“It got worse.  Yvonne had stayed with her mother last night, and after Gary had left, Yvonne said she would start the packing.  Mrs Gibson seemed stunned for a moment, then shouted at her to leave.”

“What did you do?”

“I’d been about to leave too, but I decided it would be better if I waited a bit longer in case Dixon came back.  Fortunately, he didn’t.”

Leonard glanced at the clock.  “I’m going to get something to eat.  Do you want to join me, or will you eat later?”

“I’ll eat later, but you need to build your strength up for your confirmation class.  You’re going to need it.”

“Don’t remind me!”

Despite Leonard’s fears, the confirmation class hadn’t gone as badly as he’d expected.  The four teenagers had wanted to discuss the murder, but Leonard had steered them into talking about the importance of keeping all the commandments and steered them rapidly away from the example of adultery one of the girls had tried to share.

He had therefore been in a reasonably positive frame of mind the following morning.  There was a Mother’s Union meeting in the afternoon, and he wasn’t surprised when Sidney asked him if he was able to attend.  The ladies liked it when the vicar came to the meeting, but somehow Sidney always found a reason why he couldn’t join them, sending the curate in his place.

Sidney went out, telling Leonard he would call on Mrs Gibson to make sure she was all right before joining Geordie to meet Bert Gibson’s solicitor.  Leonard settled down to work on his sermon, cutting down on some of the more obscure references he felt tempted to include.  At least he was preaching at Evensong, so Sidney would have the Matins service to navigate, with the need to include mention of the untimely death.

He was so engrossed in his work that he jumped at the quiet knock on the door.  Then Mrs Chambers called out, “I’ve got Inspector Keating on the phone.”

“Did you tell him Sidney’s not here?”

She gave him a slightly exasperated look.  “He knows that because he’s with Sidney.”

“Oh, yes, Sidney did mention something this morning.”  Leonard turned back to his sermon notes.

“So, aren’t you going to speak to him?”

“Sorry, my mind was on the Medes and the Persians.”

“Hmph, well maybe you could turn your mind to more modern-day problems.”

“I’m going.”

“And do you want a fresh cup of coffee – you’ve let that one get cold again.”

“Yes, please.”

Leonard picked up the receiver and said, “Geordie, what can I do for you?”

“Can you go down to Mrs Gibson and sit with her until we get there?”

“Yes of course.  How long will you be?”

“We’ll be there in less than half an hour.  We’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

Leonard grabbed his jacket and hat and called out to Mrs Chapman to say he wouldn’t want the coffee after all.  He heard her muttering something about not being surprised.  As he opened the door, he realised Dickens had bounded over, hoping he was going for a walk.  On a whim, Leonard picked up Dickens’ lead and whistled to the dog to follow.

As they reached Mrs Gibson’s cottage Leonard could hear shouting from inside.  He knocked loudly on the door, and after a few minutes, Yvonne Dixon answered it. 

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“I’ve come to see your mother,” Leonard replied.  “Can I come in?”

“If you must.”

Leonard went into the parlour, where he saw Mrs Gibson sitting in an armchair pleading with her son-in-law to leave her things alone. 

Gary Dixon, meanwhile, carried on pulling open drawers and throwing the contents on the floor.  “It’s got to be here somewhere,” he shouted.  “He told me he was changing it.  You stupid old woman, don’t you know where he put it?”

Dixon raised his fist and Leonard stepped forward.  “I wouldn’t do that,” he said.

“Oh yeah, and who’s going to stop me?” Dixon snarled.  “One blow and you’d be flat on the floor.”

Dickens growled, the fur on the back of his neck standing up. 

Dixon took a step backwards.  “And you can keep your dog off me.”

“My dog won’t harm you unless you harm me,” Leonard said, his tone icy.  “I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I suggest you leave Mrs Gibson alone.”

Dixon took another look at Dickens and left the house, telling Yvonne to stay and keep on looking.

Once Dixon had gone, Mrs Gibson said, “He’s been afraid of dogs ever since he was bitten as a child.  And that was his own fault as well.”

She bent down to start picking up the contents of the drawers, but Yvonne was there first.  “I’ll do it for you, Mum.  You don’t want to hurt your knee again.”

“I’m not having you looking through everything and reporting back to that husband of yours.”

“Yvonne, why don’t you go and make us all a nice cup of tea,” Leonard said, “And I’ll put the things back in the drawers.”  Turning to Mrs Gibson, he added, “If I put anything in the wrong place, you can always sort them out again later.”

Yvonne returned with the tea tray.  She poured Leonard a cup and handed it to him, managing to spill some into the saucer as she did so.  There was no sugar on the tray, and Leonard was glad he didn’t take it because he suspected any request for some would be met with nothing more than a glare, and the suggestion he find it himself.  He had no intention of leaving Yvonne alone with her mother at the moment.

They sat drinking their tea and making awkward conversation.  Yvonne’s replies to Leonard’s tentative comments were monosyllabic, and Mrs Gibson seemed unsurprisingly pre-occupied.  Leonard was grateful for the knock at the door which indicated the arrival of Geordie and Sidney.

Yvonne let them in, then she left the house with a brusque, “I’m going out.  I’ll be back later, Mother.”

Mrs Gibson looked up as the men walked into the parlour.  “Can I get you some tea, Inspector, Reverend?”

“No, thank you,” Geordie said, “We’re all right.  But don’t let us stop you.”

Leonard took the cold cup of tea Mrs Gibson was holding and said, “I’ll get rid of this, and pour you a fresh cup.”

Once Leonard had returned and given Mrs Gibson her tea, Geordie said, “Mrs Gibson, did your husband mention to you he was planning on changing his will?”

“Yes, shortly after the … the marriage.”  Leonard noticed how carefully she avoided mentioning Sarah Henson by name.  “He even made an appointment to see the solicitor, but then he cancelled it because it was the day Tom Perrett’s cart brought down the old beech tree and he had to go and help out.  He said he’d remake the appointment, but as far as I know he hadn’t got round to it.”

Geordie looked over at Sidney who nodded and said by way of explanation, “The tree was rotten inside, but it didn’t stop it blocking most of the road. It had to be moved that day or else the milk tankers wouldn’t have got through.”

Geordie nodded, and then gently asked, “Do you know what was in your husband’s will?”

“Oh, yes.  He told me because he wanted me to be sure I’d know I’d be okay if anything happened to him.”  She paused and took a couple of deep breaths before continuing.  “Everything was to come to me for my lifetime, and then to be split between the two daughters.  And the ex, um, ex …”

“Executors,” Sidney suggested.

“Yes, the executors were to be the husbands, or if they weren’t married, the solicitor on behalf of the girls.”

“Was Dixon aware your husband was planning to change his will?” Geordie asked in the same gentle tone as before.

“I should think most of the village did.  Bert got drunk a few days after the wedding and shouted it out in the pub.  It wasn’t just drunken talk though; he’d already said something to me.”

“He wasn’t happy about the marriage?”

“Neither of us were.  But now, I do miss Sarah.”  She began to cry. 

Leonard gave a cough and said, rather hesitantly, “It might be possible to arrange for you and Sarah to meet.”

“She won’t want to see me, not after everything.  She came over on that day, and I hardly spoke to her.”

“I think she would want to.”

“And anyway, I don’t know where she lives.”

“What?” Geordie’s exclamation was rather louder than he had probably intended.

“She had sent me her address; she wrote after she got married to tell me where they were living.  I’d pushed it into the bureau – I didn’t want to get rid of it, but I didn’t want to look at it either.  And then on that morning, at first everything was so up in the air, I didn’t know what to do, but then I thought I ought to send her a telegram.  She still had a right to know; he was her father.  But I couldn’t find the letter, and then Sarah and William came anyway and I forgot I’d been looking for it.  And now,” she waved her arm vaguely over the floor, “it could be anywhere.”

“When I arrived, Dixon was emptying papers all over the floor,” Leonard explained.  “I tried to put everything back where it belonged, but there’s no guarantee I managed it.  I didn’t see anything which looked like a letter from Sarah.”

“Fortunately,” Geordie said, speaking to Mrs Gibson, “the police aren’t reliant on missing letters, and we do know your daughter’s address.  Would you like me to arrange for someone to go round to see Sarah, and tell her you’re missing her.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” she said.  But then she cowered slightly, “but Yvonne won’t be happy.  She doesn’t want to have anything to do with Sarah and says I shouldn’t either.”

“My advice would be not to mention anything to Yvonne just yet.  There’ll be plenty of time to worry about that once you’ve met Sarah,” Geordie said.  “Will you be all right if we leave you on your own?  I’ll go and have a word with Gary Dixon and warn him there will be serious trouble if I hear he’s been bothering you again.”

“Yes, thank you.  I’ll be fine now.”

Leonard and Sidney walked back to the vicarage together, Dickens bounding along between them. 

They were met by Mrs Chapman, who said, “At least you’re back in time for dinner.  Are we expecting the inspector again today, or is he planning on eating elsewhere?  Oh, and did you see Janey Bridges while you were out and about?  Her mother called in; she doesn’t seem to have come home last night.”

 “We’ll be with you in a minute, Mrs C,” Leonard said hastily before steering Sidney into the study.  He could feel Mrs Chapman glaring at him at his unusually brusque manner but didn’t intend explaining.

“What’s the matter?” Sidney asked as soon as the study door was shut.

“Last night when we were talking about the Ten Commandments, Jackie Bridges said her sister and Gary Dixon had committed adultery.  I moved on rapidly and forgot about it, but, if Janey’s now missing, then Dixon may know something.”

Sidney nodded.  “I’ll see if I can get hold of Geordie.  He may still be at Dixon’s workshop.  If not, he’ll be on his way here.”

Leonard left Sidney to try to telephone and started to walk back towards the road.  He had just reached the road when he saw Geordie’s car approaching and flagged him down. 

As Geordie slowed down Leonard leapt in the car and said, somewhat breathlessly, “Jackie Bridges told me last night in confirmation class her sister Janey had committed adultery with Gary Dixon.  Yesterday I assumed it was more of the behind the bike sheds type of behaviour – they were at school together – but now Janey’s missing, and I don’t think it was only that.”

“Are you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions?  Jackie’s how old, 13?  Trying to use words like adultery to impress her mates?”

“She’s 12.  And no, her expression when she said it should have made me realise there was more to it.”  Leonard swallowed.  “If anything’s happened to Janey it’s going to be my fault.”

“We don’t know anything’s happened to her.  She may have got herself another boyfriend, one she doesn’t want her nosey little sister knowing anything about, and spent the night with him.  Nevertheless, we will just check with Dixon.”

They pulled up beside the workshop, and Geordie went in, telling Leonard to stay in the car.  Geordie reappeared shortly afterwards, and got back in, saying, “He denies having any idea where she could be, but something about it doesn’t feel right.  I think our best bet might be to have a quiet word with Jackie Bridges, and see what she knows.  Do you know whether she’s at the grammar school or the secondary modern?”

Leonard thought about the times when he’d seen Jackie waiting with the others for the school bus.  “Secondary modern.”

“That makes things a bit easier.  The headmaster won’t make it difficult for us to speak to her.  The headmistress at the girls’ grammar is a right tartar.”

“I know.  I’ve had encounters with her.”

They sat in silence while Geordie drove to the school and parked in their car park.  He and Leonard made their way inside and were about to knock on the secretary’s door when they saw Mr Green, the headmaster, approaching.

“Good afternoon, inspector,” he said, “which one of them do you want to see this time and for what?”  The resignation in his voice was very clear.

“On this occasion, we’re not here about one of your pupils having committed a crime, but we would like a quiet word with Jackie Bridges.  She’s not in any trouble, but we are hoping she may be able to help us with something.”

“Of course, inspector.  I’ll ask my secretary to fetch her.  Perhaps you’d like to wait in my office, then you can speak to her in private.”

The headmaster showed them into his office and departed.  Shortly afterwards, there was a hesitant knock on the door, and Geordie opened it and called her in.

“Hello, Jackie,” Leonard said.

“Hello, Mr Finch.”  Jackie looked from Leonard to Geordie, panic in her eyes.

“You’re not in any trouble,” Leonard said gently.  “But no-one’s seen your sister today.  This is DI Keating and he wondered whether you knew where she might be.  I’m sure she’s sworn you to secrecy, but it’s really important you tell us anywhere she could have gone.”

Jackie bit her lip and then very quietly said, “She sometimes meets a boyfriend at Lambert’s Yard.”

“Do you know who her boyfriend is?” Geordie asked.

“I didn’t think she’d got one at the moment.  She doesn’t seem to go out with anyone for very long.”

“Okay,” Geordie said.  “Thank you very much.  And if you think of anything else you think we should know, Mr Green will be able to contact us for you.”

Jackie nodded and made a rapid escape.

“Does Lambert’s Yard mean anything to you?” Leonard asked Geordie.

“It’s a popular spot for courting couples, especially at the weekends.  It used to be a haulage yard, but hasn’t been used for the last few years.  It would be worth our while to check it out on the way back.”

Geordie drove them to the yard and parked in the middle of a number of rather dilapidated buildings.

“I suggest you start one side, and I’ll start the other and check the buildings.  There will no doubt be all sorts of things you’d prefer not to see, but we’ll simply concentrate on whether we can find any signs of Janey Bridges.”

Leonard nodded.  He didn’t really fancy walking into the tumbling down sheds, especially not knowing what he would find, but nevertheless took a deep breath and pushed his way into the first shed on his side.

Having survived the first two sheds, discovering nothing worse than some discarded clothing, and disturbing nothing but a few spiders, and what he feared was probably a rat, he was feeling a little more confident as he pushed open the rotting door of the third one.

Even to his untrained eye, Leonard could see someone had been in there recently from the way the dust and grime had been disturbed.  Cautiously, he took a few steps forward and then stopped when he spotted what he thought was a body.

He stumbled back to the doorway and shouted, “Geordie, over here!”

Geordie ran over to him.  “Have you found her?”

“I’m not sure.  There’s someone in there, but I didn’t get close enough to identify them.”

“Probably wise.  It may just be a tramp who wouldn’t appreciate you waking him.”

Geordie went into the shed, Leonard following close behind.  Geordie approached the body, then bent down closer.

“It’s a young woman.  She’s unconscious, but still breathing.  Do you recognise her?”

Leonard knelt down next to Geordie.  “Yes, this is Janey Bridges.”

“Right.  I’m going to have to drive to the farm we came past and use their phone to call an ambulance.  I’ll leave you here.  I doubt anyone will appear while I’m gone, but if you have to defend yourself and the girl, use whatever force necessary.”

Leonard gave him a horrified look.

“Or failing anything else, pray!”

Geordie ran to his car, and Leonard heard the engine start and Geordie drive rapidly out of the yard.  Sitting on the ground next to the unconscious Janey, Leonard wasn’t sure what to do, but settled for telling the girl help was on its way.  Then, since he didn’t wish to sit in silence, he began reciting some of the psalms and then took his prayer book out of his pocket and read a few of what he felt were the most relevant prayers.

He was just saying the Lord’s Prayer when he heard Geordie return.  The detective waited for him to finish before coming into the shed.

Leonard gave him an embarrassed smile before saying, “I didn’t want to sit in silence.”

“That’s understandable.  I’m not going to judge you.  The ambulance is on its way.  Can I leave you here for a few minutes longer whilst I continue to look round?”

“Yes, of course.” 

The ambulance arrived shortly afterwards, followed by a police car.  The ambulance driver and his mate put Janey onto a stretcher and carried her into the back of the ambulance.  Geordie spoke briefly to them, and they departed.  He then gave instructions to his own men to examine the yard and the shed.

Then Geordie said, “The next stop is to see Mrs Bridges and tell her what’s happened.  It would probably be as well if you came with me to do that.  After which, if nothing else has happened, we might be able to grab something to eat.”

“Oh,” Leonard exclaimed.  “The Mother’s Union.”

“What?”

“Sidney asked me to attend their meeting.  I’m going to be late.”

“I’m sure they will all be very understanding in the circumstances and won’t hold it against you.”

“Oh, but Sidney might.  It means he will have to go himself.  There’s no way Mrs C will let him escape.”  Leonard permitted himself a brief chuckle.  “Oh dear, what a shame!”

“Leonard Finch, I think you are taking far too much enjoyment in this situation, for what would be appropriate for a respectable curate.”

“Yes, this is almost certainly true!”

***

Having spoken to Mrs Bridges and ensured she was able to get to the hospital to be with Janey, Geordie drove Leonard back to the vicarage.  They found the dinner in the oven, looking rather dried up.

“Do you want some?” Leonard asked.

“Yes, why not?  Just warm it through a bit, and it’ll be fine,” Geordie replied.

Having eaten, Geordie left, and Leonard tried to settle down to continue his sermon preparation.  He found it impossible to concentrate, his mind whirling through all that had happened during the day.  Finally, he gave up and decided he would go and sit in the church and see if he could find an element of peace there.

When he entered the church, he noticed a figure to one side, sitting quietly with a lighted candle before them.  Not wishing to disturb them, he tried to walk quietly round the church, but the floor squeaked, and they looked up.

“Oh, Mr Finch,” the woman said.  Leonard recognised her as Mrs Henson, William’s mother.  “I hope it’s all right my being here.”

“Of course it is.  God’s house is open to all.”

“I couldn’t face going to the Mother’s Union.  Not with everyone talking.  It felt wrong somehow.”

“So you came in here to light a candle.”

“Yes.  For Bert Gibson.  That’s okay, isn’t it?  Only, …”

Leonard looked at her and took a stab at the source of the conflicting emotions displayed on her face.  “You’ve had some good news,” he asked gently.

“Yes.  I’m going to be a grandmother.  You will keep it a secret, won’t you?”  Leonard nodded, so she continued.  “My Jim would have been so pleased.  I went to tell him.  And then I thought about Elsie Gibson.  Jim’s been gone for seven years, but she’s only just lost Bert.  And at least we got to say goodbye; she never even had that.  I know we don’t see eye to eye, but I wanted to do something.”

“And so you lit a candle.  ‘The light shineth in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.’”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, before Mrs Henson stood up and said, “Thank you, Mr Finch, for understanding.”

She left the church, and Leonard remained for a few more minutes, before suddenly standing up and marching out of the church.

Leonard strode into the vicarage ignoring Sidney and Mrs Chapman, whose surprise at this behaviour he noticed, but felt irrelevant.  He picked up the phone, and when it was answered, said, “Inspector Keating please…  Reverend Leonard Finch … Yes, I’ll hold.”

When Geordie answered he said, “I’ve just realised the significance of something I saw this morning.  Do you remember we commented how strange it was Miss White didn’t phone the vicarage the morning of Bert Gibson’s murder?  This morning, when Yvonne Dixon began to pick up the papers Dixon had thrown on Mrs Gibson’s floor, one of the letters she grabbed was a commiseration card from Miss White.  I thought nothing more of it at the time – there’d been a number of such cards – but the wording was strange, not ‘Do let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,’ but ‘I’m sure I can help you, get in touch’.  I think she knows something.”

Geordie thanked him and said they would follow it up.

Leonard turned to find the other two looking at him.

Mrs Chapman said, “I think you’re right.  She was acting as if she was party to a secret at Mother’s Union.  And I don’t think it was just that Sarah Henson had gone to see her mother.”

***

They were in the middle of eating supper when someone banged on the front door.  Mrs Chapman answered it, and Leonard heard a man say, “Could I have a word with Mr Finch, please?”

Leonard went to see him, “Hello, Mr Henson.  Do you want to come in?”

“No, I won’t hold you up.  I just came by to thank you for all you’ve done for Sarah and her mother, and to let you know we’ll be staying with Mrs Gibson for a few days.  Sarah said she’d stay and I’m not leaving her on her own with Gary Dixon acting like he is.”

“Just don’t get into a fight.”

“If I do, I won’t be the one who starts it.”

Leonard returned to the dining room and said to Sidney, “I presume you heard that.”

“Yes.  It sounds like a good idea to me,” Sidney replied.  “Dixon will think twice about trying to bully his mother-in-law if Henson’s there.”

A little later Mrs Chapman called out, “Can someone take that dog out before I fall over him one more time?”

Leonard replied, “I’ll go and leave Sidney to his jazz for a bit.”

He whistled to Dickens and the two of them ambled together towards the fields.  Leonard liked being out in the evening quiet – it held a sort of peace to him similar to what he found in the church; the day’s work completed, and looking across the fens, it reminded him there was more to life than petty day-to-day concerns.

He was quietly reciting a poem to himself when he heard a scream.  Dickens swung round and man and dog ran in the direction of the sound.

Half hidden by some trees, Leonard saw Gary Dixon deliver a blow to Miss White with his fist.

“Stop that!” Leonard shouted.

Dixon looked up, pushed Miss White to the ground, and advanced on Leonard.  Leonard swallowed but held his ground.  Dickens growled, and Dixon turned, ran back to where Leonard could see his van had been parked, and drove off.

Leonard called Dickens to him and ran to Miss White.  Her face was a mess, but Leonard could just see she was still breathing.  He picked her up, and, staggering slightly, made his way to the road.  He knew it might be quicker to go for help by himself, but he couldn’t risk Dixon coming back.

He was standing by the side of the road trying to decide which way he should go when the local farrier pulled up.

“You all right, mate?  Sorry, Reverend?” the farrier asked.

“I need to get help,” Leonard gasped.

“Let’s get her in the back.  She doesn’t look good.  And I’ll drive you straight to the hospital.”

The farrier helped Leonard to lie Miss White down in the back of the van and covered her with a horse blanket.  Dickens jumped up beside them.

As they travelled to hospital, Leonard once more found himself praying for an unconscious woman by his side.

When the van stopped, Leonard saw they’d reached the hospital.  A few minutes later the van doors were opened, and the medical staff hurried Miss White away.  Leonard climbed cautiously out and then the world went black.

Sometime later he was sitting on a hard, wooden hospital chair when he saw Sidney, Mrs Chapman and Jack Chapman coming towards him.  He smiled at them.

“Are you okay?” Mrs Chapman asked.  “Were you hurt?”

“Yes, I am.  No, I wasn’t.  Embarrassingly, I fainted, for which I’ve been given hot, sweet tea and a biscuit and told robustly by a nurse that it was perfectly understandable.”

“Are you free to leave?” Jack Chapman asked.

“Yes, I am.  We’ll need to find Dickens though.”

“Dickens is home already,” Sidney said.  “The farrier brought him back and told us what had happened.  We came to get you.”

Jack Chapman drove them back to the vicarage.  Once there, he assured his wife that Leonard would be all right, and Sidney added he would keep an eye on his curate, since it was, after all, his responsibility.  Mrs Chapman made a doubtful noise, but agreed to go with her husband.

Leonard and Sidney were on their second glass of whisky when once more there was a knock at the door.

“What now?” Leonard groaned.

Sidney went to see and called out, “It’s okay, it’s only Geordie.”

Leonard took another glass from the cupboard and poured some whisky into it. 

Geordie came in, sat down, had a few sips of the whisky and sighed in contentment.  “Dixon has been arrested and is now in custody,” he said.

“Has he been charged with murder?” Sidney asked.

“Not as yet.  He’s been charged with assaults on both Miss White and Janey Bridges, which will be sufficient to be going on with.”

“Does that mean…?” Leonard began tentatively.

“Yes,” Geordie smiled.  “Janey has resumed consciousness and has given a brief description of what happened to her.  We’ll need to interview her again, but the doctor wasn’t keen on us talking to her at all.  He only let me in to ensure her assailant didn’t attack anyone else.”

“I’m glad she’s conscious,” Leonard replied.  “Have they said whether they expect her to recover fully?”

“The doctor wouldn’t commit himself, but he seemed positive.”

“Did Janey have a reason for why Dixon attacked her?” Sidney asked.

“All she told me was that she’d said she was pleased he now owned the barns.  He’d been boasting to her about what he could do with them once they were in his possession.”

“And presumably Dixon thought there was more to it,” Sidney replied.  “What about Miss White?”

“Too soon to tell.”

Leonard saw the look Geordie gave Sidney, and he groaned.  “Oh, no!”

“Hey, it’s not as bad as that,” Geordie said.  “You got her to the hospital as quickly as you could.  There’s no reason to suppose she won’t regain consciousness, but there’s likely to be some permanent physical damage.”

Leonard gave a sigh of relief.

“There’s more,” Geordie added.  “We’d sent a constable round to Mrs Gibson’s, in case Dixon took it into his head to go there.  The constable had found Henson there, and had been planning to leave again when Yvonne Dixon came rushing in.  She ran towards her mother and would have hit her if Henson hadn’t stood in between them.  Constable Rogers restrained Yvonne, who continued screaming it was all her mother’s fault, and why hadn’t she made sure the new will had been written.  Rogers tried to calm her down, but then she said her father had brought it all on himself by refusing to give Dixon what he wanted.”

“What happened then?” Sidney asked.

“Rogers advised her not to say anything more and half assisted, half hauled her out of the house.  Fortunately, the sergeant was nearby, and they brought her into the station for questioning.  She had a black eye and a split lip, so I’d say Dixon had hit her.  She denies it, of course, says it was a cupboard door.”

“Will you be charging her?”

“We’ll decide in the morning.  We’ve kept her in overnight – at the moment she’s as much a danger to herself as others.  We’ll be formally interviewing her then, and we’ll see what she has to tell us.”

Sidney looked thoughtful.  “I hope she’ll have a solicitor with her.”

“The duty solicitor will be available.  Whether she chooses to accept him will be up to her.  My guess is she will have reflected overnight and will decide not to say anything.  She’ll probably claim she was overwrought and saying the first thing which came into her head, and that things had just got too much for her.”

Leonard suddenly yawned.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I’ve started to feel very tired.”

Geordie stood up.  “That’s no surprise.  I shall be off anyway.  I’ll speak to you both tomorrow.”

Sidney saw Geordie out and then came back to the study.  “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, just tired.  I’m going to bed.”

“Good idea.  And don’t worry if you sleep in tomorrow.  I’ll try not to wake you, and I’m sure Mrs C will happily cook your breakfast later.”

“Thank you.  Good night!”

Much to his surprise, Leonard did sleep late.  When he came downstairs, Mrs Chapman greeted him warmly and, almost unheard of, asked what he’d like for breakfast.  Much emboldened, Leonard requested two eggs, which he ate with a great deal of enjoyment.

He was just finished his food when the telephone rang, and he heard Sidney go to answer it.  Shortly afterwards, Sidney came into the dining room, smiling.  “That was Geordie,” he said.  “Dixon has admitted to killing Bert Gibson, although he says he only meant to hurt him.  Apparently, Dixon asked Gibson to hand over the running of the workshop to him, and when Gibson refused Dixon hit him.”

“That leaves the question of why Dixon didn’t try to get help.”

“And why he moved the body, so it would be found in the workshop.  It all sounds pre-meditated, but that, I suspect, will be left to the trial.”

“What a mess.”

“Indeed.  Geordie’s asked if one of us can be with Mrs Gibson when he goes to tell her.  I’m happy to go.”

“Would you mind if I went?  One way or another I’ve been involved in this case, and I’d like to see it through.”

“Of course.  Geordie said he’d be there in about an hour.”

When Leonard reached Mrs Gibson house, he found Yvonne Dixon standing outside.  “Can I help?” he asked.

“I want to go in, but I can’t.  I said some terrible things last night, and Mum will never forgive me.”  The tears streamed down Yvonne’s face.

“Would it help if I went in and told your mother you were here?” Leonard asked gently.

“Yes, please,” she sniffed.  “And then you can tell me to go away, and I won’t have to face her.”

Leonard knocked on the door, and when Sarah Henson came to answer it, he noticed Yvonne had moved round the side of the house, where she wouldn’t be seen.

“Come in, Mr Finch,” Sarah said.

He went in and found Mrs Gibson sitting in the parlour.  “Yvonne’s outside.  She wants to see you, but she doesn’t think you’ll let her in.”

“Oh!”  Mrs Gibson looked straight at Leonard.  “She didn’t kill her father, did she?”

“No.”  Leonard shook his head.

“I lost contact with one daughter because of things which were said in the heat of the moment; I’m not going to go through that again.”  Mrs Gibson raised her voice.  “Sarah, your sister is outside.  Ask her to come in.”

When Geordie arrived, he was surprised to see Yvonne present, but he continued to give Mrs Gibson the news of Dixon’s arrest. 

When Geordie had left, Leonard asked if there was anything else he could do for the family.

“Could you read a Bible passage to us?” Mrs Gibson asked.  “I’ve always be fond of the story of the prodigal son, and it seems rather appropriate.”

“Of course.”

A couple of days later Sidney and Leonard were discussing the Sunday services and how best to acknowledge the recent events, when they heard a tentative knock on the door.  It being Saturday morning, Mrs Chapman wasn’t there, so Sidney went to answer it.

Leonard heard him say, “Come in, Mrs Gibson, Mrs Henson.  Can we get you a cup of tea or coffee?”

“No thank you, we won’t be here long.”

Leonard came out of the study to join them, and all four went into the dining room.  Before Sidney could say anything else, Mrs Gibson began, “There’s been trouble between our families for years, but now we’re both going to share a grandchild we thought it was time to put that behind us.”

“And so, we thought the best way to demonstrate this was if we held a joint stall at the church fete,” Mrs Henson added.

“We’d need a double table…”

“…Which should really go in the middle of the horseshoe arrangement.”

“In other words, in pride of place,” Sidney said.

Both ladies attempted to look as if the thought had never crossed their minds.

Sidney laughed.  “In the circumstances, I completely agree.  Just don’t assume this sets a precedent.”

“Of course not, vicar,” both ladies chorused together.

Leonard looked at Sidney and mentally wished him luck dislodging them the following year.

“Was there anything else?” Sidney asked.

There was a pause, and Mrs Henson gently nudged Mrs Gibson.  “We’ll need to discuss the funeral soon.  I was wondering, would you mind very much, vicar, if Mr Finch conducted it?”

Sidney looked over at Leonard, who said, “I’d be honoured to do so, if you would like me to.”

“And I have no problem at all with your suggestion,” Sidney added.

“Thank you.”

The two ladies stood, and Sidney showed them out before returning to rejoin Leonard.  “Why do I feel like I’ve been out-manoeuvred?” he asked.

“Probably because you have,” Leonard replied with a smile.  “But on this occasion, I don’t think you can complain too much.”

 

**EPILOGUE**

A few months later, the two families were once more gathered in the church.  But this time, instead of the sombre black clothing worn to the funeral, the congregation were brightly dressed.  In fact, Leonard thought as he surveyed them, some of the hats wouldn’t have looked out of place at a wedding.  They were gathered for the christening of William and Sarah’s baby son, who was to be named Stephen James.

With her husband facing trial and at minimum a long prison sentence, Yvonne Dixon had moved back to live with her mother.  She had found herself a job, something her husband had forbidden her to do, and the two women were managing to live together in reasonable harmony. 

It had been suggested to William and Sarah they move into Yvonne’s old house, but although both were happy to return to the place they had grown up, they had wanted to maintain their independence.  Sarah, in particular, had wanted a home free from past memories and had grown accustomed since her marriage of living her own life, away from family expectations. 

So the couple had decided to buy one of the houses which had just been built on a small estate to one side of Grantchester.  Both mothers had been united in their comments as to why anyone should want a new house with no character rather than a traditional home, but the young couple had merely smiled and continued with their own plans.

However, the name of their son had caused no contention.  Everyone agreed Stephen was a good, sensible name, and with James being the middle name of Sarah’s father as well as that of William’s father, both families would be remembered.

Leonard smiled warmly as he began, “It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to this baptism service.”


End file.
